Source: How to Beat the January Blues
Some good tips for turning those blue skies to beautiful skies! Thanks, Susie.
Category Archives: The Daily Grind
The Christmas Tree Skirt
I can’t imagine why the Christmas tree skirt looks like this. Or why the ornaments are falling down.
– House with 2 Cats
Meow-y Christmas!
How about you? Who are your special helpers this year?
Owl Safari
Source: Owl Safari
What a fun project!
YARD SALE 103: Pleasing Your Patrons
Welcome to YARD SALE 103: Pleasing Your Patrons, the third installment of my YARD SALE series.
Plans were to have this post complete and ready to go yesterday morning. And then computer chaos ensued. Instead I spent all day in support chat rooms and on the phone trying to recalibrate this technological piece of machinery. (I know, you thought I was going to say something else nasty. I had those moments yesterday, filled completely with frustration. Today I am much calmer, as most of the issues have been resolved.)
Back to YARD SALE 103: Pleasing Your Patrons.
There are two parties that must be happy at the end of the yard sale day.
1. Yourself – including your spouse, children, pets, and neighbors.
2. Your patrons – those shoppers who come to take away your stuff (and pay you while they are doing so).
Happily ever after is the true goal here, for all involved.
We were happy and elated with the ease and success of our sale. Exhausted? Yes. But it was a good tired. Check off number 1.
One of the main things we did at our yard sale was to keep it simple. Simple organization, simple pricing, simple transactions. Shoot, we even helped cart junk, I mean purchases, out to vehicles. We meaning my husband.
Cheap prices, lots of choices, easy layout, and great access were the strategies we used. Not sure about parking, which looked a bit dodgy at times, but we did the best with what we had.
Happy customers? I’m pleased to say, there were many. Here are a few examples of pleased patrons.
My favorite was a young lady (in her twenties) who found our ginger pot lamp delightful. It was missing a shade, but still worked. We were just done with it. I told her the story of how we’ve had it almost as long as we’ve been married, nearly 30 years. She was so excited to have a lamp AND a story. Kind of makes me want it back. No. Not really.
Another glad shopper was a middle grade boy who discovered the microscope set. He was so pleased, he stood there opening and taking out all of the items on the cash register table. This did create somewhat of a mess and nuisance for others trying to pay and leave, but no one was put out. This young man just couldn’t wait to get home and start playing.
Our neighbor across the street was overjoyed to capitalize on our yard sale traffic. He put out a refrigerator. It was sold before we even knew it was available. See? The neighbors were involved and did a little side business of their own.
Two middle-aged women came both days. Friday, they paid the usual, though cheap, prices and filled several bags of new belongings. The ladies returned on Saturday and gathered even more with our reduced-to-move prices. Both were very happy as they regularly shopped yard sales to find supplies and necessities for shelters and ministries they helped.
There was a ton of Christmas stuff. I was very surprised to see several different shoppers gravitate and select Christmas goods. Guess what I said as they left? Merry Christmas!
Pleased and happy customers? Yes. Check off number 2.
And so we come to the end of yard sale mania. My hope is that you will be encouraged to simplify the experience. It will still be hard work, but oh, so much easier and more satisfying. Plus you will make some extra cash. No one can argue with that.
See previous posts YARD SALE 101: Ways to Avoid the “Y” Word and YARD SALE 102:Tips for Yard Sale Success (If You Must Have One) for more details about yard sales at http://www.angiequantrell.blogspot.com.
Thanks for reading and double thanks for sharing.
Sunday Markets
The fountain at Place Monge on Sunday Market day
In France, one of the things we truly enjoyed was the Sunday market held in the Place Monge town square. One could buy ANYTHING needed for eating, drinking, or giving. We only hit one Sunday that had a simultaneous flea market going on, but the rest of the days, there was no lack of choices for purchase. Fresh fruit, vegetables, and flowers were squashed in among stalls of stinky cheese and fish, raw meat and poultry. Lucious homemade breads competed for the winning fragrance award with occasional ‘meals made for you right now.’ The entire experience was a delight for the senses. Taking home the goods – mouthwatering sustanence.
flowers at Sunday Market
Meat vendor at Place Monge
vegetable vendor at Place Monge
Market fare from Place Monge
Many years ago, in the Yakima Valley, a Sunday farmer’s market was hatched. Of course, being at church most of each Sunday, we did not frequent the market. In fact, we boycotted it simply because it should be held on Saturdays (our opinion) so market workers and go-ers could attend church on Sunday. Granted, I don’t believe our boycott gained any new members of a church anywhere…
With our recent life change of full Sunday church responsibilities to experiencing ‘house church’ at a local park on Sunday mornings, we decided we would check it out – to see what the rest of the valley does on Sunday mornings. It seems that many residents take pride and joy at what is locally available, fresh from the fields, and the hands of gardeners, farmers, and crafters.
Sunday Market in Yakima
Pleasantly surprised, we found a plethora of aromatic and tasty produce, fruit, home produced crafts, and food items. Mixed in was a variety of ethnic food stalls (I love the panset and lumpia) and shoppers galore.
Checking out the goods
An added bonus is musical entertainment. Steel drum music was such a wonderful accompaniment to the outing.
My grandbaby hits the Sunday Market
Our boycott was in vain. We encountered people we knew, interacted with community members, and socialized under the hot sun. Purchasing fresh produce and showing off our grandson was at the top of the list of prizes for the day.
Hayden with Papa at the Yakima Sunday Market
I guess the boycott was a misguided waste of time. The Master Gardener did not stick Himself in church and stay there all day on Sundays. He was out among the people, where ever the people were…Perhaps more productive to relationship building and reaching out is to be where the people are…not where we think they should be, but where they actually are.
A challenge to myself – where are the families in my community on any given Sunday morning? Maybe it’s time I found out…and made some new friends.
New Blog
Just an FYI – Rather than fight with trying to undo pages and rewire them (I have already been attempting…to no avail), I have a new blog. After using both this version and the new one, maybe I will have input on which is easier and more user friendly. So please, check out the other blog. I’ll be bouncing back and forth. 🙂 Love your comments! (and ideas…).
The new blog is titled Quantrell Quips, Quirks, and Quandary’s… found at www.angiequantrell.blogspot.com
And this was BEFORE espresso soaked dessert.
I’m One of Them!
now the cap is where it belongs
It’s true. I’ve joined the “Look at that! I can’t believe they did that? Honestly, who forgets that?” group. And if my son finds out, I’m gonna be on his list…
Set the scene: midnight, last leg of the trip home from the Tacoma area, HOT (still almost 90), driving because it’s cooler at night (??? serioiusly, 90’s are better than 100’s if there is no AC in the vehicle, right?), the gas gage is hovering between 1/4 of a tank and the red zone…
The question: Do I stop and do a quick fill, or just head over the 3 humps and pray the gas holds…Do I really want to sit in the dark (with an empty gas tank) waiting for family members to notice I am not there (and can’t call because there is no reception on those hills)?
Solution: Ok, quick stop at the truck stop for $10 of gas to make it home.
Just in case some of you have never been at a truck stop at midnight, it’s kind of weird. And hot. Did I say how hot it was? The station had these special lights that attracted thousands of moths (I AM NOT overexaggerating). The ground was crunchy with carcasses, while the rest circled clueless as to their fate, banging against the lights. Before I even got out of the rig, they were swarming. Ick. I dashed in, paid my money, and went out…to fight the moths landing on everything. I flicked them out of my hair, off the truck, away from the gas tank..As I stood there, I thought, really, they need a few bat houses here or a ginormous bug zapper. But I’d rather they go natural with some bats.
So, as I watched the ten bucks disappear into the tank (let’s NOT talk about gas prices), I observed suicidal moths, the lack of gas receipt, the moths in my face…when the pump quit, I put the hose away, zipped in the caballero, and headed out asap – mind you, talking to myself, wishing they had bug catchers or something, and asking how could I get a receipt if I paid cash…it’s the simple things that escape me in the middle of my mind, I mean night, like forgetting how to go in and ask for a receipt. Debit cards are much easier.
Fast forward 35 minutes and I was pulling into the carport in Yakima. I got out of the vehicle and started unloading my junk…And I noticed the gas tank was open. Weird, I didn’t remember not shutting it. Then I looked closer, and not even the gas cap was on! Gasp! Oh, no, Taylor is going to kill me…where is it…Not laying in the back where I place it when I put gas in the tank. Oh, relief, there it is, rolled up to the front of the pickup bed. Quick, before anyone notices, screw on the gas cap and close the door.
Uh, did I just drive all the way from Ellensburg with my tank wide open??? What a space…I can no longer wonder how people can drive off with the gas hoses still attached or forget their drink on top of their car or leave the gas cap dangling…I’m one of them. Just a moment of distraction, and too many moths, yes, I’ll blame them…
Whew. Good thing it was dark and no one could see what I did.
The Flood
Just so you know, it’s not Kevin’s fault. For those of you who know him, this may be hard to believe. But it’s true! He did not cause, accidently or otherwise, our ‘maybe we should build an ark‘ moment. Continuez-s’il vous plait! (Continue please.)
Early Wednesday morning, the first day of OFFICIAL meetings and trainings, Kevin and I woke up and were preparing for the day. It was also a day of extra duties for us, as we had 2 additional meetings for small group facilitators. I was in the shower shampooing my hair, and Kevin announced, calmly, “We have a leak.”
No big deal, I was thinking, other than the shower curtain was loose or the toilet was leaking…I kept washing my hair.
“Honey, we have a big leak. You need to get out.” There was a little more urgency to this announcement. But what’s a girl to do? I had to finish my hair.
“Ang, you need to get out now!” Desperation was quite evident as well as volume increase. After I turned off the shower, I heard disaster running between the bathroom wall and the bedroom. I peeled the curtain back to see the center of the bath mat the only island of non-standing water. One foot down, and that disappeared as well. Looking around the corner, pooling water stood everywhere! Kevin was frantically dressing and throwing bags, shoes, and items stored on the floor onto the bed.
Talk about an early morning shock. While I was hurriedly throwing on clothes, the ceiling started leaking onto the corner of the bed (onto our very nice mattress pad and lovely duvet, compliments of the Motley’s in Italy 🙂 Gasp! Our voices were quite loud now (it was still early), and 2 female heads poked into the door.
“Can we help?” “Yes, evacuate stuff! And Kevin, dial 0 and call maintenance.” Even as we worked at hauling stuff into the laundry room, yet MORE water began to leak from out of the light fixture and fire alarm. It spread ever closer to the window heat/AC unit, which is quite a long ways from the bathroom. I admit I was a bit panicked about all of us being electricuted and ran around turning off anything electric!
It was only a short while, but seemed much longer, before maintenance, in 3 golf carts, waltzed in to find out that we were in truth, having an emergency. I was very amazed at how little time it took 4 of us to completely strip the room of all our belongings and toss them into the laundry room. Quite a neat look. (I would have taken a picture, but I lost the camera in the rush, and my mind was a bit busy grabbing and shoving things into the suitcases).
Kevin and I had to leave for our first meeting, not ready, totally unorganized and unprepared, but we were on time. 🙂 Due to our extra meetings, we were unable to return and move rooms until the completion of the afternoon meetings…Great news though – we now are upstairs in a clean (DRY) room with a view of the river. Nicey nice. We decided that God wanted us to have a room with a view. He just used a very creative way to get it for us.
We found out it was a rare event where a cap popped off a pipe in the ceiling sprinkler system (right above our bed). We are very happy that we were already up and moving around. What a shock that cold water would have been had we still been snoozin. Sorry to our dorm mates, who did not have water for showers. We used it all up. No, just kidding. It was shut off to fix the problem.
All’s well that ends well. We met our across and down the hall neighbors in a most unusual way. Team work does work! A great big thanks to the maintenance guys who fixed it, the housekeepers who washed the bedding in the big washers and dryers, and the housing people who did not put us back in the same room, where I was concerned we would wake up to a bed full of plaster from a crashed in ceiling.
See – Kevin did not do it this time! AND, not one piece of clothing or any belonging was ruined, and only a few were even damp! Amazing.
Allo!
Ooh la la! I travelled into the world of French dialogue this week! And it was very scary. Oui, I mean non. It was humiliating. Oui, that is the correct word. Humbling.
Imagine this. In our Yakima Valley, we have many languages, from Spanish (predominant) to different Native American dialects to Philippino to Japanese, and increasing Russian sounding and Asian. But not often is there French. I don’t believe any of our high schools even teach it anymore. But the biggest language we see is Spanish.
A few days ago, I was headed into Top Foods, the grocery store we frequent (especially since our daughter works at the connected Starbucks, which is one of the 2 in WA state to be closed – not a good move, but that is another story and I’ve already been in contact with headquarters). I walked past two women. My ears perked up as it sounded like they were speaking French. Cool. I thought, oh, I should stop and say bonjour. Mais, non, I continued out the exit. Non, I thought, this is unique for us. So I waited for the doors to open (I was on the wrong side), and went back in. Alas, they were gone.
I figured I had missed the opportunity, so I walked to the car and put my groceries away. Glancing back, I saw the same 2 ladies sitting down in front of Starbucks in the outside cafe chairs. Try number 2. Hmmm, another free observation. Moi, I seem to need at least 2 chances to get things together. Maybe that’s why it’s taking Kevin and I about 6 years to pursue this call to France.
Girding myself with at least a cheery “Bonjour” I timidly waltzed across the parking lot and went up to them. Yes, you can timidly waltz. As I approached, they immediately got up and started announcing they were just waiting…(In France, at least Paris, one must buy food or drink at a cafe before acquiring the right to sit in a chair and use a table – they thought I was going to run them off). No, no, I said. You are fine! Then I commenced with my one word of Bonjour, Allo(2 ways to say hi). They were so friendly and glad that I had stopped to massacre the French language with them – I mean they were very gracious and spoke with me. Their English was wonderful. My French, all 3-4 words, were atrocious.
Fast forward, the two amis were a part of a 10-person tour led by a French professor who had taught one year in Montana and was now leading this group for 24 days throughout our beautiful northwest. Voila! The rest of the group came out of Top Foods, and I helped them gather enough chairs and tables to sit together. I’m sure the newcomers were wondering about me. But I soon enough enhanced their ears with my preschool sentences of wrong tense French. I know this because they very nicely were happy to help me correct what I was saying. Humbling. Yes, humbling.
Let me tell you how friendly and polite they were. If I could have dug up some more rudimentary French, I’m sure I could’ve stayed. But my nerves frazzled out. Sigh. I did manage to share that Kevin and I are moving to Paris next April, to which they all responded excitedly, and wanted to know details and whys and where would we live and study (I told them, in French, that I had already studied French there…which they corrected for me, as obviously, I hadn’t studied yet!). They were from southern France, Toulouse, but who knows? We may meet somewhere in France!
My newest observation and fact about Angie – I have a basic working understanding of some French, more in writing than hearing or speaking. But confront me with a French speaking person, and voila, it’s all a big fat ZERO of blathering idiot (say that in French ee-dee-ote). Tant pis, too bad. The great news? I was excited to talk with these new friends. God filled me with love and a desire to get to know them and spend time with them.
Merci beaucoup, mon Dieu, for the opportunity and the encouragement to visit, however humiliating, with the people of my heart.
PS A funny sidenote – I was sharing (dans english) that after culture shock and a few months of French school, I would be able to speak much better when if I met them. The professor said that I must drink MUCH WINE. Does much wine make the culture shock go away? Or just make one not care how bad her French is? I didn’t tell them I wouldn’t be sampling their fruit of the wine, I mean vine, at least not until the great heavenly feast. 🙂
Did you know?
Did you know they have band-aids for eyeballs? I found out today. It’s not even an exciting story or anything! I was putting away my clothes in the dresser. Yes, that’s it. I wasn’t climbing a mountain, walking in the wind, chopping wood, or riding my bike on the Greenway.
As I was deeply involved in this exciting adventure of laundry, I puffed ???? some air and something else up beneath my glasses and into my eyeball. Ouch. It felt immediately like a pokey and sharp prize in my eye. I have an older dresser, which always has splinters and little bits of wood in the bottom. So it was that – or lint. I really wanted to stay in this mode of most exciting day, but my eye hurt. I rinsed, rubbed (gently), put in drops, cried, flushed…nothing changed except it got worse.
All good things have to come to an end, so I stopped putting away clothes and cleaning out the closet. I had to break down and call for a ride to the eye doctor. [Sidenote: Dr. LaBissoniere. I chose him in high school because his last name is French.] The receptionist, of course, asked what was wrong. I gave a blow by blow account of the fantastic details of my movie-like life event…I was worked into the schedule.
After I explained my weird, let’s just say it, it’s too weird, not even spectacular, accident for the 3rd time in the office (not counting on the phone), the doctor came in. She got those giant insect lens looking things out and peered into my eye. “There it is. A piece of wood. Sticking straight into your cornea. It never would’ve come out by itself.”
Whew. I’m glad I wasn’t over-reacting. But my mind had already thought ahead to HOW it was coming un-stuck from my eyeball. And could I please be put out for that. “Oh, we will numb your eye.” Is that by shot, because if it is, I’m outta here, sliver or not in my eyeball.
“We have eyedrops.” Ok then, praise the Lord for eyedrops! Now that’s a weird feeling. Numb eyeball. I could just barely see her stick the tweezer-thingy’s in and grab out the wood.
Now, there were scratches, but they are off center of my field of vision, so if there is scarring (I hadn’t even thought of that yet!), it wouldn’t really affect my main vision. “I’m going to give you a band-aid (thinking eye patch here) so the scratches will be protected while they heal. And some antibiotic eye drops.”
Band-aid for eyeballs = contact band-aid! How cool is that! She popped it into my eye, and I wear it until I see her in 2 days. Luckily, I already wear contacts, so I’m used to things being in my eye (but not pieces of wood). No makeup, no contacts, no rubbing…Just eye drops and a contact band-aid. The marvels of modern medicine and technology.
It was exciting until my sister, who I love dearly, said, “Oooh, how will they take it out?” Good question. Surely contact band-aids don’t rip off your skin like normal ones, do they?
You learn something new every day. And any typos are a direct result of a contact band-aid and blurry vision.
Love, Laughter, and Life 